Basil and the women in green
by A.K.Rai
Summary: Written by 1 2 4 write, not me unluckily, a cross between A Women In Green and Basil of Baker Street. finished!
1. Chapter 1

_Ok, as I said before, I did not write this story, all credit goes to _1 2 4 write_, as you probably all know computers can be very annoying, and for this reason she was not able to put it up herself. Hope you all enjoy!_

Now tell me your story and pray, be as precise as possible, Miss?" Basil of Baker Street said soothingly, trying to calm the lady's nerves.

"Miss Dreyford," The lady supplied. "Well, I enjoy hypnotism as a hobby, and lately I've been spending time at the Mezmir Club. Sometimes I do a little hypnotizing there and sometimes I just watch the show. Several nights ago I allowed myself to go onstage and be hypnotized and when I came out of it I realized my ring was gone."

"Most interesting. And nobody who watched the show saw you take the ring off?" Basil asked.

"No. And I'm certain it didn't fall off on it's own. It's a treasured family heirloom and it would mean so much to me if you could get it back."

Basil paused, taking several puffs on his pipe.

"Dr. Dawson and I will surely do our best."

"Oh Thank you Mr. Basil."

Miss Dreyford gave him the address of the Mezmir Club, and after Basil had shown her out he had a very serious look on his face.

"This whole business was never about the ring. The young lady was obviously lying," Basil stated thoughtfully.

"Not that I believe in hypnotism, but how on Earth can you be so sure?"

"Elementary my dear Dawson. Miss Dreyford is obviously well off. She was fashionably dressed. And yet she wore no jewelry, even though a woman of her standing would own more than enough trinkets to compensate for the ring. Now, the question is, why would a woman so concerned with fashion choose not to wear jewelry? The answer is she wouldn't. She must have taken off the ring before she came here so I would believe her story. I would be willing to wager the ring was safely in her pocket and is most likely back on her finger as we speak."

"But why would she make up such a story?"

"I don't know yet, Dawson. But I intend to find out."

Just then there was another knock at the door. When Basil opened it a mouse dressed in a policemen's uniform came in.

"Ah, Inspector Vole. Good to see you again. I trust there is considerably less crime in London now that Ratigan is gone?"

Vole looked uneasy, crushing his hat in his paws.

"I wish I could say so, but there were three murders last night. And the right forefinger has been severed from each victim."

Dawson gasped. "How dreadful."

"Indeed," Vole said. "The body of the latest victim is at the morgue now.

"Our earlier client's mystery will have to wait. Come on Dawson."

Basil had seen many crimes, and Dawson had seen many terrible things in Afghanistan, but nothing could have prepared them for the site of that poor girl laying there.

As if reading their minds, Vole said sadly. "She's about the age of my niece. Normally I can face the most gruesome crimes, but it's aweful when a poor child like this who could never have defended herself is killed."

Basil nodded. "Whoever has done this shall stand trial, I promise. I promise. Now, what do the murders have in common?"

"All young women. None of them were robbed. They all come from different families, so they weren't killed in vengeance," Vole said. "I could do with a drink. Would you and Dr. Dawson be so good as to come with me to Pembrook House? We could discuss the case further there."

About half an hour later the three mice were seated at a table, but Basil suddenly seemed completely disinterested in the finger murders as he looked across the room. There was Miss Dreyford talking with an aristocratic looking gentlemen by the name of Sir George Fennick.

"I say Basil, isn't that…"

"Shhhhhhhh," Basil hushed Dawson. "Don't say anything about that now. As you were saying Inspector?"

"These murders look like the work of a maniac to me."

"There may be method in his madness," Basil said.

"Another Jack the Ripper," Dawson said.

Basil shook his head. "The victims in the Ripper killings were all from one walk of life and the same part of London. These victims are from different walks of life and various parts of the city. I have a feeling they're only a small part of something far more sinister."

"But why were the fingers cut off?"

Basil sat quietly a moment, as if trying to deduce the answer and surprise them with his logic like he always had, but even his orderly brain couldn't come to a conclusion about that question.

"If we can answer that we'll have solved the mystery," Basil said as he watched Miss Dreyford and Sir George leave.

_To be continued..._

_Ok if you have any comments please review, or PM _1 4 2 write.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Basil was staring out the window. An entire day and a night had gone by and still he was no closer to solving the finger murders. It always frustrated him to be without a case, but now he would have gladly accepted boredom over feeling so useless. He hadn't slept or eaten since he started working on this case, but he was instantly full of energy when he noticed a woman coming up the street towards his flat. He had often said that the best remedy for being overwrought about one problem was to focus on another. The case of Miss Dreyford's missing ring seemed like a prank someone had wanted to pull on him the more he thought about it, and he had abandoned the idea of trying to solve it, but maybe this new client would give him another case worth working on.

"I believe that young lady in the street is about to visit us."

"Miss Dreyford?"

"No, another lady. She must want to show us something. Her bag doesn't match her dress. The bag was chosen for size, not style."

He went to the door, and the lady looked at him anxiously.

"Basil of Baker Street?"

"Yes, and this is my friend Dr. Dawson. Won't you have a seat Miss Fennick? Please try to calm yourself." He said gently.

Miss Fennick gasped. "You know my name?"

Dawson had noticed that Basil usually seemed to enjoy amazing others with his deductions, but with so much going on he didn't waste time with that now.

"No magic. I've seen your picture in the paper. You're Sir George Fennick's daughter aren't you?"

Miss Fennick nodded.

"That's why I've come. He's always been the kindest person. Oh, I don't know what to do. The other night he was away and I didn't think anything of it. But when he came back he was so upset. He locked himself in his room and wouldn't open the door. I begged him to let me in but he wouldn't." She started shaking. Although Basil was never interested in any kind of romance, he had a remarkable way of helping his clients calm down, and spoke soothingly to her.

"It's all right. Steady. Just take a moment to collect yourself and continue when you're ready."

Taking a deep breath Miss Fennick said "Later that night I saw him digging in the garden and after he came back inside I went out and dug up what he'd buried and…"

She took a box out of her bag, and inside the box was a severed finger.

Disturbed, the detective said "We must get hold of inspector Vole at once."

Within the hour they were at the Fennick home. One of the butlers let them in and showed them to Sir Fennick's room. The door was closed but unlocked.

"May we go in?" Basil asked. Miss Fennick nodded.

Basil opened the door, and a horrible sight met his eyes. Sir George was dead, shot in the back.

"Vole, get Miss Fennick out of here quickly." Vole did as he was asked, with the poor young lady crying the whole way.

Scenes like this were always terrible, but Basil had long ago trained himself to set his feelings aside when on a case. He set to work observing every detail.

"Dawson, Fennick was not trying to get help. There was a bell to summon the butler right overhead of where he was shot, but he dragged himself over to that desk. Whatever he wanted from it was more important to him than his own life. Look. His right paw is clenched."

"Nothing unusual about that. Paws do clench in death agony."

Basil shook his head. "Then both would be clenched, not just the right one." He knelt down and opened Fennick's paw. The only thing in it was a matchbook from Pembrook House.

"What can that mean?" Dawson asked.

"Something important. We saw him there yesterday. He may have been trying to remind someone that he was there with that woman. I think I have an idea of what's going on."

Basil sent several telegrams as soon as he and Dawson were back at Baker Street, and by evening he got the reply he wanted.

"Listen to this Dawson. Sir George took a large some of money from his bank account just before his death. I smell blackmail."

"You mean he was paying off someone who saw him kill that girl and cut off her finger?"

"No, Sir George never killed anyone. But that's one of the worst things about blackmail. Once someone is accused of something, whether they did it or not, they can't risk having their name damaged, so they pay any price."

Dawson nodded to show he was listening and Basil continued.

"I pray I'm wrong, but this has all the marks of having the most maniacal criminal mind that ever lived behind it."

Dawson gulped. "Ratigan? But he's dead! We both saw him fall from Big Ben that night."

"But his body was never found. And remember I fell too but I found a way to survive. If I did, there's no reason he couldn't have."

Before the doctor could answer there was a knock at the door and Dawson was handed a telegram.

"I'm sorry Basil but I have to leave for a while. There's been an accident. An elderly woman's had a fall and needs medical help right away."

Basil nodded and picked up his violin, which had recently been repaired after the Flavisham case. "I'll see you when you get back then."

The detective had not yet finished the song when a large shadow filled the room. He turned to see an all too familiar face.

"Ratigan!"

The rat put on a sinister smile. "Come now Basil. Let's be calm. I only came for a little chat." The criminal settled himself into the chair opposite Basil. Remaining calm, Basil sat down, but the look of loathing remained on his face.

"What do you think you are doing coming here?"

Ratigan grinned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing much. Just to ask you, 'nicely' of course, to stop investigating these finger murders?"

"You know I'll never rest until I see you hanged."

"You have no evidence at all against me, and you know it."

He had a point, but Basil wasn't going to give in that easily. "But I have you. I could summon the police right now. The world believes you're dead or you'd have been arrested for that stunt you pulled with the queen."

Completely at ease, Ratigan puffed on a cigarette. "You could turn me in, but um, then you'd never see your friend again, would you?"

Basil's eyes lit in understanding. "That telegram for Dawson was a fake!"

"Very good, detective. Quite clever aren't you? Just not clever enough to have forseen my trap for him."

The detective gritted his teeth. "If any harm comes to Dawson, I'll personally save the law the trouble of executing you."

"No harm will come to him, this time, but I can't answer for the future. I advise you to drop this case. If you're the reason for my downfall you'll never live to enjoy it."

"Then we'll walk through the gates of eternity together," Basil answered.

Half laughing as he let himself out, Ratigan said "What a charming picture that would be."

Basil threw on his inverness cape to go search for his friend, but thankfully Dawson came through the door.

"I was just going to look for you old fellow."

Dawson looked confused. "You think I don't know my way around London? Well, maybe I don't. There's no such address as the one I was told to go to. Somebody's idea of a joke."

"That was no joke, my dear Dawson. While you were out Ratigan was here."

"Here! And you let him go? Why?"

"He bluffed me into thinking he was holding a friend of mine hostage. A certain doctor."

"Me?" Dawson asked, stunned as Basil nodded.

"I'm afraid so."

Dawson was touched. "That was good of you, being willing to let him go for my sake, but I wish you'd got him."

Basil smiled and put a paw on Dawson's shoulder.

"We will old fellow. The only question now is the method used on the blackmail victims. How did he make Sir George believe he was the killer?"

Basil started to pace the room, but then went to the window. "Dawson, something's wrong across the street. That window on the second floor of that empty house wasn't open before. Would you be so good as to go close it?"

Although Dawson didn't understand what could be so important about a window being open, he obeyed. From the window of the empty house he could see Basil standing by the window of their flat. Dawson was about to close the window when he heard footsteps. He wasn't as good at deduction as Basil, but it was obvious whoever it was shouldn't be there. Dawson moved back into the shadows and too his horror saw the intruder go to the window, aim a gun across the road directly at Basil's head, and pull the trigger.

Dawson leapt out, shouting in panic. "He's killed him! He's killed Basil!" He was about to grab the killer when he was pulled back.

"Quiet Dawson!"

Unable to believe his ears Dawson turned around. "Basil! But I saw him shoot you."

"No, Dawson. He only shot a wax replica I've found useful for this sort of thing. I'm afraid we're in trouble with Mrs. Judson over the broken window though."

He turned to his would- be killer.

"Get up you."

The mouse, who has a dazed look on his face, did as he was asked, and didn't make another move against either the detective or his friend. Basil reached into the stranger's pocket and found a card with the name "Col. William."

"You're a sniper aren't you?"

"A sniper," he repeated mechanically.

"Who asked you to kill me?"

"He told me I couldn't miss." This answer was equally mechanical. Basil waved his paw in front of William's face. He didn't blink.

Basil's eyes widened and snapped his fingers. "I've got it Dawson. The method used to make poor Sir George think he committed the murders. Hypnotism. This fellow is clearly hypnotized. I think you'll find he was invited to the home of a lovely young lady tonight for a drink and can't remember anything after that. That lady did the same thing to Sir George. A lady we both know. A certain Miss Dreyford."

Dawson gasped. "Certainly you don't believe that. Miss Dreyford involved in murder?"

"You put too much focus on her looks Dawson. The most beautiful woman I ever saw was hanged for killing three innocent children, and the ugliest man I ever saw was a wealthy man at one time but nearly went broke donating money to charity."

"Well, anyway, you can't believe in hypnotism?" Dawson stammered.

"That's another thing I learned from the master. When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

In short time Inspector Vole was taking William to Mouseland Yard headquarters, and Dawson was questioning Basil about the case.

"If Sir George was hypnotized, why didn't Ratigan have him kill those people himself?"

"First of all," Basil explained "Ratigan didn't want to get him hanged. A dead blackmail victim is of no use to the blackmailer, and if Sir George were the killer there would have been the danger of someone seeing him. He must have threatened to come to me, or he'd still be alive. Secondly, hypnotism can't force someone to do what their morals forbid them to. That's why Ratigan chose a sniper to do his dirty work of trying to kill me tonight."

"But why cut off the fingers?"

"Don't you see? It's those fingers that linked Sir George to the murders. He found them in his pocket after waking up from being hypnotized, and for all he knew he killed those women during some awful temporary insanity."

"And you think Miss Dreyford hypnotized him?"

Basil nodded. "It would seem so. The only strange thing is that she'd tell us she spent time at the Mezmir Club. She practically gave herself away. But then I've often found that the details that seem to make a case more confusing at first end up making it clearer. Now, who can that be?" Basil wondered as someone knocked. He went to the door, and was handed a telegram. Reading it, his face fell.

"William is dead. Someone shot him as he was being taken to the yard. And he was our only witness. I should have known. The only thing to do now is go to the Mezmir Club and find Miss Dreyford. The way she told us about the place though, she may be leading us into a trap." He turned to Dawson. "You know from the Flaversham case how dangerous this could be. It's up to you if you want to come with me or not."

Dawson simply put on his coat and went to the door. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but you talked me into becoming your partner and you're not getting rid of me now," he said, a smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ok as we all know computers can be…well annoying as hell, it's taken a while and three different computers to be able to put up this chapter, as mine is refusing to work, so unfortunately I may be a little slow at both putting up chapters and reviewing all the new stories that have appeared, but I'll try my best!_

_I hope you enjoy the next part of 1 2 4 write's story:_

Although he went with Basil to the Mezmir Club, Dawson was still unwilling to fully believe in hypnotism.

"As a medical man you must admit that hypnotism has it's place in modern science," Basil said.

"Well, I suppose that there are certain people who go under if you point a finger at them, but anybody with half a brain wouldn't be duped by such a thing."

Just then Dawson felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a rather amused looking mouse behind him.

"I'm glad to see someone sees through our little charade, Why don't you and your friend come behind stage and I'll show you how we work?"

Dawson looked at Basil who had started to follow the newcomer and gestured for Dawson to do the same. Was it Dawson's imagination or was Basil chuckling to himself?

The hypnotist led them to a room with a chair placed in front of a circular board with a black and white spiral painted on it.

"Won't you have a seat Doctor?'

Dawson reluctantly sat down, and the hypnotist started the spiral spinning.

"Amazing what an attraction it has, on the weak minded of course. Someone like yourself could look at it 'til doomsday and not be hypnotized. Although you may get a bit drowsy. Why you're feeling drowsy now aren't you?" Dawson's eyelids drooped. Basil made sure to look at different areas of the floor and walls.

"Why don't you let the spiral come into you doctor? Just relax yourself. Go to sleep if you feel like it." At the hypnotist's words, Dawson's eyes closed tightly.

"Stand up. Now, you're on holiday in Scotland. Isn't the scenery beautiful? You're walking towards a stream now. You'd better take off your shoes and socks."

Dawson removed his right shoe and sock.

"You can leave the other ones on. The other leg is waterproof. Now cross the stream. And when you get to the other side you can set down and relax on the bank." He guided Dawson back to the chair.

"Now wake up."

Dawson's eyes opened and he turned to Basil.

"See? I told you there was no reason to believe in hypnotism."

"You may be right Dawson, but I have a feeling you'll be needing your other shoe."

Surprised, Dawson blushed and put it back on. Basil couldn't help grinning, but turned serious again seeing Miss Dreyford walk over and yell at the hypnotist.

"You know hypnotism should only be used in healing, not making fools out of people."

Basil walked over. "I agree completely."

"Mr. Basil. Have you found my missing ring yet?"

"No, I'm sorry to say I haven't. I've been caught up in an extremely difficult case. For the first time in my life I find myself completely baffled. I'm actually loosing sleep over it."

Dawson had not known Basil long, but by now he knew him well enough to know that the detective often went without sleep when on a case, so it wasn't too difficult to see where this was going.

"You know, I may be able to help with that," Miss Dreyford said. "I'm not a professional, but I do know enough about hypnotism to help a person sleep. Why don't you meet me at my place in about an hour?"

"I can't think of a pleasanter experience," Basil answered. Miss Dreyford gave him the address and made an excuse to leave. Once she was out of hearing range Dawson turned to Basil.

"Are you sure about this? You just saw how easy it is to be hypnotized. If she is in with Ratigan and you get hypnotized there's no telling what could happen."

"If my will isn't stronger than her's I deserve it. Give me about half an hour after I get there and then follow with Vole."


	4. Chapter 4

Miss Dreyford's apartment was comfortably furnished, and Basil was invited to set in an overstuffed chair. Miss Dreyford put some soothing music on the phonograph and turned down the lights, the perfect atmosphere to relax a person enough to hypnotize them. She went into the next room and came back holding out a pill.

"What's this?" Basil asked.

"Just a sedative. You're a very difficult subject. It will only help you to relax."

"Er, I don't approve of drugs. I'd rather not."

"Well, we don't have to continue at all."

Basil hesitated. "Wait. I'll take a chance."

Miss Dreyford nodded. "You'll need water."

She went to the sink and came back with a glass for him. He swallowed the pill, and a moment later his eyelids flickered. He sank deeper into the chair.

"You feel yourself getting sleepy. Don't fight it. You need your sleep you know." She gestured to the table in front of the chair. On it was a bowl of water as reflective as a mirror, and floating in it was a single white flower. Miss Dreyford touched the water and started the flower moving in a spiral.

"Just fix your eyes on the flower," she continued. "Empty your mind of every other thought. The water's so smooth isn't it? Not a ripple. Steady, deep, strong. Strange how the light is reflected. Little specks of light that move. So restful and peaceful. And you're so close to finding what you're looking for. You'll find the guilty ones when you're rested. Just let yourself be drawn down, down, down." She looked back at Basil. His eyes were closed tightly and his head was laid against his chest. His breathing was steady, slow, and shallow. She turned off the phonograph and went to the doorway.

"Well, here he is Ratigan. I've done you're dirty work for you."

Ratigan stepped into the room as Miss Dreyford told the detective "Stand up Mr. Basil. Open your eyes." Basil did as he was told, his expression as blank as William's had been.

"We're dealing with someone clever here. He could be faking," Ratigan said. He gestured for one of his lackeys, a Doctor Simnel, who took a small knife and jabbed it roughly into Basil's arm. Basil didn't flinch in the slightest.

"That will do Doctor. He couldn't fake not feeling that. Congratulations Miss Dreyford." The lady looked almost ready to cry. Ratigan didn't notice as he gave instructions to Basil.

"Walk over to the desk. Set down and write what I tell you."

Basil took the pen in his paw as Ratigan dictated.

"I have found a case which I can not solve. I have outlived my usefulness. Therefore I have decided to end my life. Sign your name. Now fold it and put it in your pocket. Now let's take a little walk on the terrace" Basil was led outside onto a narrow terrace that nobody except maybe a tightrope walker would have felt safe walking. "Now walk slowly to the end of it." Basil walked ahead, nearly falling when he stepped on a loose brick.

"Keep going," Ratigan encouraged. "At the end is an open doorway. You can pass through it in perfect safety.

"Must you drag this on?" Miss Dreyford half shouted.

"Oh yes. My revenge for my little tumble off Big Ben. Now Basil, through the doorway is the villain responsible for the finger murders, the murder of Sir George Fennick, The Big Ben Caper, The Tower Bridge job, and all those other delightful crimes. Professor Ratigan."

"Basil!" Dawson shouted, rushing up . "Stand still." Dawson climbed onto the wall and grabbed his friend as Vole and his men arrested Ratigan and the others.

"What a beautiful view Dawson. I'm quite enjoying it," Basil said casually.

"No you're not. You're under a spell. Steady Basil. Steady does it. Don't move"

"Nonsense Dawson."

"You don't know what you're doing.'

'Of course I do."

"You mean you're not hypnotized?"

"Certainly not."

"Then get off that wall you idiot!"

Basil was almost laughing as he stepped down, but Dawson came close to falling off the wall before Basil grabbed his paw and helped him down.

"You're luck seems to hold Basil," Ratigan hissed.

"Oh I'd hardly call it luck. You see I substituted a drug of my own for one that this lady pressed on me. Oh by the way Vole, you may note that she seemed most reluctant to take part in this. I believe she was threatened into obeying Ratigan. She also tried to give me warning on our first meeting by telling me about the Mezmir Club. The pill I took left me quite insensitive to pain, which is why I had no reaction when Ratigan's friend here decided to use my arm as a pin cushion. Now Vole, you may take them away, but keep in mind what I said about Miss Dreyford."

He turned to Ratigan.

"Farewell until I see you on the gallows Professor."

"The rope hasn't been made that will go around my neck," Ratigan snarled, and tried leaping to the building across the street. For a moment it seemed he would make it, but the pipe he grabbed gave way and he fell to the street below. This time there was no doubt he was dead.

"An evil creature Basil, but what an terrible death," Dawson commented.

"Better than he deserved," Basil answered. It sounded cold, but the truth was Ratigan had been responsible for more crimes than Basil cared to remember. He had cut short many lives and ruined as many others. Now he would never hurt anyone again.

"What are you thinking about?" Dawson asked, seeing the peaceful look on Basil's face.

"I'm thinking of all the women who can come and go in safety in the streets of London tonight. And in our own little way, we are privileged to watch over our city."

Author's note.

OK, I know in the movie The Woman In Green the woman was as guilty as the rest of them. Her innocence is my little change.


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